I tell you the solemn truth, unless a kernel of wheat falls into the ground and dies, it remains by itself alone. But if it dies, it produces much grain. (John 12:24)
Twenty-eight-year-old Jim Elliot, and four companions, peered through ferns toward the Auca village. A squawking parrot flew up and set their nerves on edge. All Jim’s hopes were focused on bringing the gospel to this unreached tribe in the Ecuadorian jungle. Until now, these natives had only one greeting for outsiders—murder. As Jim waited amidst hungry mosquitoes, he wondered if the gifts they had air dropped would pacify, or if this was to be a hostile meeting.
Blood curdling war cries tore the silence as painted warriors swarmed. The missionaries were committed to winning friends, so they waved greetings instead of their guns. Spears flew with deadly accuracy. The five kernels were slain to the ground and a harvest was sown.
While I’m inspired by Jim’s sacrifice, I acknowledge that his wife, Elizabeth, took the more difficult path. After the 1956 massacre, she went to live with the Ecuadorian Indians. She offered forgiveness and a second chance at the gospel. Many, including Aucas, came to salvation.
Jim died at the end of the spear, but Elizabeth lived at the end of the spear. She teaches me that it may be more heroic to live for others, than to die for Christ. With each night she slept in a hammock, and every meal of jungle food, she brought the tip of the spear to her own chest, for a tribe of murdering Indians.
How could the Elliots make such enormous sacrifices? It’s simple. They basked in the love light streaming from Jesus, then did what comes naturally. Only the unquenchable peace of Christ gives us courage to live at the end of the spear.
Prayer: Lord of the Harvest, multiply my life through death to self.